TRAGIC: Rook and Ronin, #1 (5 page)

Chapter Seven - RONIN

Elise is brimming with delight as she finds Antoine and I munching on apples in his office. "You want to explain what just happened?" I ask her.

She closes the door, still smiling. "I saved her, that's all."

"Saved her how, exactly?" Antoine questions.

"She's a mess, I think she's homeless or at the very least, not willing to go home. I gave her the garden apartment and a job washing hair in the salon."

"Washing hair!" Antoine and I bellow it together.

Elise puts her hands up like she's warding off our complaints. "She was too proud to admit she needed help, so I made it easier for her to accept it, that's all."

"So, she's not the new shampoo girl?"

"No, Ronin, she is. She has to be, or she might bolt and get a hotel room with her money or something."

"Elise, we want her for TRAGIC, she can't be shampooing hair. The other girls will swoop in like lions, she'll walk out!"

"Well, then I suggest you get those girls under control, Ronin. You let them get away with far too much. If they're mean to her and she walks out, that's your fault. Now." My tiny little sister rubs her hands together and seats herself in Antoine's lap and cups his face. "I'm ready for the mountains. Take me up there and rock my world."

"Oh, sick! You two!" Oh God, they're kissing now! "I'm leaving, does this girl need a babysitter, or what? I don't have to stick around, do I?"

I roll my eyes as Antoine and Elise finish their kiss.

"No, but she needs an exterior building code so she can come and go as she pleases," Elise says, breathless from her kiss. "Can you take her a code? I have to pack." And then she skips out of the office and heads for her and Antoine's apartment upstairs.

I look over at Antoine. His one brow is lifted all the way up to his forehead.

"What?"

"This girl, Ronin. You know what."

"Hey, you liked her too, it's not just me. She's perfect, right? She's the same type of girl you described to me last week, only that was your fantasy girl for TRAGIC. She's like a little modeling-god gift. Don't jinx it."

He's not convinced. "Elise wants to save her and you will ruin her. This will not turn out well."

"What do you mean? I have no intention of
ruining
her!"

"You know exactly what I mean. TRAGIC is named tragic for a reason. You're going to ruin this girl."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. I take care of
all
of these girls."

"You didn't take care of Mardee."

My mouth drops open, that's how stunned I am that he went there. "Antoine, dude, seriously, you're pissing me off now. What happened to her had nothing to do with me."

"No?" he asks evenly. "You brought her in here and she was swept up in the life. This Rook girl is Mardee all over again. I can see it. She's sweet and innocent now, but just wait until the money starts rolling in and the men start making offers. The agencies will be circling like vultures to get to her. It takes a strong person to navigate the maze of predators in this world, you know that."

"I told you, I'll manage her. Shit."

"You better, Ronin. Because Elise is invested in this one and that means I'm invested in her now, too. I won't stand by like last time."

"Get the hell out of here. You need a vacation. I take care of all these girls. Ask any one of them." He makes to protest and I add in, "Besides Clare! Clare doesn't count, so do not even start with me on her."

He gets up from his chair and points to his fruit basket. "Put that in the kitchen, will you? I don't want it to go to waste while we're out of town."

"Sure," I say, relieved that he's dropping the whole Mardee thing. I pick up the basket and head out, trying to shake off the feeling of shame that Mardee's name brings out in me.

She
was
out of control but I wasn't in charge of her personal life. Hell, I was only nineteen myself back then. I had just started managing the girls. It was hardly my fault that Mardee fell in with the neighborhood scum.

Besides, I've made a lot of changes since then.

I will not have a repeat of Mardee.

The kitchen is clean and quiet now that Friday afternoon has passed into Friday evening. I stick the basket of fruit in the fridge with the others so it will keep over the weekend. Antoine is a fanatic about his fruit baskets. My gaze wanders to the large window over the sink and I spy Rook's garden apartment. She has the curtains open wide and she's standing in front of it, looking out on the cherry trees.

I have to agree with Antoine. This girl is a Mardee waiting to happen and I should really make myself available tonight so she doesn't wander off and get in trouble in the rowdy neighborhood.

But why? She has no building code, so she can't leave. I smile as the idea comes to me. I'll just conveniently forget to take her the code and then I can enjoy my Friday night without having to wonder if her skinny ass needs saving. Yes, this might be easier than I thought.

I leave the kitchen, take the stairs three at time, and walk the hallway down to my apartment.

Rook can't get into trouble if she never gets the chance.

Sounds like a perfect plan to me.

What could go wrong?

Chapter Eight - ROOK

Elise never appears with my building code and I'm starving. My stomach is churning with the emptiness, that's how hungry I am. The only thing I ate today was, well, a ten-dollar latte at Starbucks doesn't count as food, really. So I have not eaten anything today.

I peek out the window at the studio building. From the front room I can see the two-story windows on the fourth and fifth floors, and then on the sixth floor, there are smaller windows. There was a light on in one a few hours ago, but now everything is dark. I'm pretty sure there's a kitchen inside, but my code for the garden apartment won't open the doors that go into the studio.

So I'm like a prisoner out here in the secret garden.

I'm a secret prisoner.

It makes me uncomfortable. I mean, I really don't know these people at all. I met them today and the one I talked to has left for the weekend and the one who was supposed to take care of things is nowhere to be found. I wander the massive garden terrace. Pace, actually. I pace the terrace. And what's worse is that I can hear all sorts of people down below. This building is smack in the middle of a very active area of Denver filled with bars and all sorts of nightlife.

And I'm a secret prisoner in a secret garden.

I walk along the edge of the terrace and peer over to see what's happening down there. Lots of people. Lots of loud people which in my experience means lots of drunk people. Down the street is a huge neon sign that flashes an image of a Fifties waitress and the letters,
Cookie's Diner!
If I get down I can go to Cookie's and tell them I belong to Ronin and get free food.

Screw that, I have money. I don't need to belong to Ronin to feed myself.

I huff out some air and start to get annoyed. My stomach hurts, dammit! I look up at the window where the lights were one more time and spy a fire escape. Am I that desperate that I'm thinking about using the fire escape?

My feet are already across the terrace and I'm hopping over the short iron railing that allows access to the stairs. I've never been on a fire escape. I grew up in foster homes and maybe Chicago isn't the best place to be a foster kid, but they always placed me in actual houses, I'll give them that.

But I've seen them on TV. You just hop over, climb down, and then hang onto that ladder thing at the bottom where it delivers you safely to the ground. Easy. My feet bang down the metal stairs and when I get to the last level there's a lever that looks like it wants to be pulled. I release it and the ladder drops down to the ground.

I am minutes away from food!

But voices down the alley stop me. There's a group of guys just turning the corner. If I hustle I can get down on the ground and be back out on the busy street before they get close. I climb down and they start calling out to me.

Shit, Rook! This is not a good situation to be in. I drop to the ground and make my way out to the street. The people are still loud and there's even more of them than there were before, but at least I'm not alone in a dark alley.

Cookie's is on the other side of the street, but that's the busy side where all the bars are, so I keep to my side and walk down the block, shoving my hand in my pocket to grab my money.

Shit again! I look back up at the Chaput Building wistfully. My money is still upstairs. I am so stupid. I turn around to go back up the fire escape to get my money and see the rowdy guys from the alley turn the corner.

I spin around and make my way to Cookie's. I guess for tonight I'll belong to Ronin. I weave my way through the crowds, looking back nervously as the guys follow me, and then cross the street when I get to the corner.

A hand grabs me from behind and I jerk away and turn. "Get your hands off me!"

The guy is tall and has a surprised look on his face. "Sorry, geez. We just wanted to see if you're OK. You look pretty shook up."

He's not one of the guys from the alley because they are still across the street. I turn away again, not caring if I was rude because I'm just totally out of my element right now and I just want to get something to eat. A crowd exits the diner and I let them jostle me away from the offended guy and push me inside. When the door closes behind me I let out a huge breath of relief.

Cookie's Diner right now is a haven for me. Some of the sound from outside is muffled and I give myself a moment to relax before the door opens and lets the noise back in.

"Can I help ya, honey?" the middle-aged waitress asks me as I stand there breathing hard.

"Um." Shit. I suck it up and force the words out. "I belong to Ronin and I just want some food to go, if that's OK."

The waitress smiles and winks at someone in the doorway behind me. "She belong to you, Ronin?"

I twirl around, my face hot with embarrassment. And yes, there he is, in all his top-model splendor, except with actual clothes on this time.

Ronin looks at me with a satisfied grin. "That's right, Angie. This one belongs to me all right. And we'll be eating here, so just send Cindy back when she's got time."

And then he hooks my arm around his and leads me towards the back of the diner. "Now, princess, do you mind telling me how you got yourself to Cookie's when I left you locked in your tower?"

"You left me up there on purpose?"

"How else could I keep an eye on you while I went out for drinks? You're not twenty-one, right? No bars for the baby. But I see you are resourceful. I might have to keep the reins a little tighter on you than the others."

I scoff at his boldness as he pushes me to sit in a booth at the back of the diner. Who the hell does this guy think he is? "Look, Ronin, I'm not sure how all the details of this deal will shake out, but I'm just going to go ahead and make one thing clear right now. I'm not in the market for big brother, I can take care of myself, and if you try and lock me in the building again, I'm leaving for good. I don't take shit from any—"

"You all ready to order, Ronin?"

The waitress, Cindy I guess, is standing over us tapping her pen on her little order pad.

"Yeah," Ronin says, clearing his throat. "The usual for me, and bring one for her too, but make it well-done."

"Excuse me! I can order for myself. And I'd like—" I have no menu, so I make it up. "A grilled chicken salad."

The waitress eyes me, then bends down to write her ticket as she looks to Ronin for confirmation. What is up with that?

"She'll have my usual, well-done."

Cindy clicks her gum and walks off, ripping the order off the pad and clamping it up on one of those turn-style things for the cook in back.

"How dare you?"

"How dare I what?" He's grinning at me again and if he wasn't so damn irritating with his controlling bullshit, I might be tempted to gaze at him for a while. His eyes blaze with mischief, like I'm entertaining him or something, and then he leans back, kicks out his legs and pushes them against mine under the table. He drapes his arm over the back of the booth with a satisfied grin and my heart beats a little faster.

He's touching me.

I pull my leg back and he laughs. "Ah, yes, I forgot. Rook, the only model in the history of Antoine Chaput studios who refuses to be touched. You're gonna have to get over that. Real fast."

"How dare you order for me?" I reply, ignoring his flirt, or threat, or whatever the hell that comment just was. "I have no idea what your
usual
is, and who are you to tell me to eat it well-done anyway? I just wanted a salad."

I get nothing from him beyond that confident smile. We stare at each other for a few moments and he looks me straight in the eyes. Like he can see through me or something. I try to keep his gaze, but I lose the contest and look away first as my heart does a weird dance inside my chest.